


In the Arms of the Enemy

by TexasRevoFan (Lemonsaresweet)



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickly Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trip, fighting and fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:05:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonsaresweet/pseuds/TexasRevoFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the road to Willoughby, Charlie and Bass are caught in a sudden rain storm. And their clothes get soaked so of course they must remove them, with predictable results. As they grow closer and begin to trust each other, Charlie questions how she really feels about the man who was once her mortal enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charlie and Monroe had been riding along silently all day, making their way down to Willoughby, to her uncle. It had only been a couple of days since he saved her from that seedy bar in Pottsboro, and just one night since she’d regained consciousness and he’d explained to her the terms of their little journey. 

Charlie had spent most of the day thinking over the events that had led up to this, turning her image of Sebastian Monroe over and over in her head, trying to make sense of it. A killer. A sadist. A manipulator. A deadly fighter. But also… A broken man. Her savior. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen. 

And wasn’t that just the hell of it? She tried to tell herself that he was nothing so special. Good looking, sure, but she’d seen better. Taller. Darker. Younger. But all the rationalizing in the world had no prayer of convincing her hormones that Monroe wasn’t the most bone-meltingly attractive man she’d ever met. And now they were out in the middle of nowhere, just the two of them. Charlie felt like she was going somewhat crazy. 

Which is why she tried to remind herself. Murderer. Dictator. Bastard. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look back, but she saw the slight tightening in his jaw that said he’d noticed. Again. Just like he’d noticed the other dozen times. Shit. 

A cool breeze suddenly blew across the road, and dark clouds raced in across the evening sky. It was getting close to time to stop for the night anyway, and Charlie thought about suggesting that they try to find cover before a storm hit. But then she thought better of it, realizing that every mile they put behind them today was a mile she wouldn’t have to spend with Monroe tomorrow, fighting these confusing feelings. 

Then all hell broke loose. The dark clouds grew black, and the breeze turned into a howling wind. Monroe turned to her and opened his mouth to speak, and that was when the sky opened up. It went from being completely dry to buckets pouring down on them in seconds. Charlie screamed involuntarily, and Monroe cursed and pulled the horses off the road, into a thin stand of trees that barely offered any protection against the driving storm. “Son of a BITCH!” he yelled, tying them off. The horses, for their part, looked relatively calm. Charlie felt anything but. 

Running around to the back of the supply wagon that their horses had been pulling, Monroe wrenched the doors open. “Get in!” he yelled over the howl of the storm, and Charlie didn’t even think before obeying. She hoisted her soaking wet body up into the back of the vehicle, and Monroe followed quickly behind, slamming the door behind them. 

Charlie was tangled on top of their packs and other random items, and she shifted uncomfortably, freeing herself. Impatiently, she shoved the packs back, stacking them on top of each other, making room to sit. Once she was settled, she set to wiping impatiently at her soaked arms, pushing water droplets off her skin, clearing water out of her eyes, pulling her drenched hair back into a ponytail. 

For his part, Monroe was busily doing the same, having stripped off his over shirt, which he was now using as a poor substitute for a towel, running it over his arms, face and hair. When he’d finished, he looked up at Charlie. They were sitting practically on top of each other, crammed into the narrow space left between their supplies. Monroe apologized, “Shit. Sorry. I should have had us stop awhile back and put the tents up. That was stupid.” It was hard to hear him over the sound of rain thundering on the top of the metal roof of the truck. 

Charlie shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t have had time to get them up, regardless, and then our stuff would have been soaked, too.” 

Monroe nodded, acknowledging this. Charlie shivered, and his eyes flickered with concern. 

“You should change out of that wet stuff,” he said gruffly. “It’s going to get too cold to sit here soaked all night.” 

Charlie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Right, I’m just going to strip my clothes off with you sitting right there,” she said. 

Then it was Monroe’s turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t freeze to death after I went to all the trouble of saving your ass. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll close my eyes.” 

Charlie didn’t acknowledge this offer, but she grabbed her pack and awkwardly dug through it until she found a dry tank top and pair of panties. Clothes in hand, she turned to Monroe and eyed him impatiently. “God, seriously?” he asked her in response, and she just raised her eyebrows and shook the clothes at him. Grumbling, he leaned back against the pile of bags beside him and tipped his head back, closing his eyes. 

Once he had, Charlie couldn’t move fast enough to get the cold, clammy, constricting clothing off her body. She pulled off her boots and sodden socks, setting them to the side, spreading out the socks in the hopes they would air dry. Her jeans were next, and she sighed with relief as she pulled them over her legs, feeling warmer already. 

Glancing hesitantly at Monroe and confirming that his eyes were still closed, Charlie hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her wet underwear and pulled them quickly over her legs, folding them up in her jeans. She put on the dry ones, and said to Monroe, “Okay, I’m finished.” 

His eyes snapped open, and he immediately raked them over her body, lingering on her hard nipples jutting out of the front of her dry tank top and her long, bare legs. Crossing her arms over her chest and glaring, Charlie waited until Monroe finally met her eyes. “You’re. Disgusting,” she pronounced emphatically. 

Monroe’s half-smirk turned into a full-on grin. “Sweetheart, I said I’d close my eyes. I didn’t say I’d cut my balls off.” 

“Charming,” was Charlie’s assessment. Sighing, she leaned back into her pack and prepared to settle in for a long night. Her tranquility was interrupted by the sight of Monroe whipping off his undershirt and reaching for the button on his pants. “What are you doing?” she sputtered in a panic. The sight of Monroe shirtless was evoking all kinds of reactions that she wasn’t remotely prepared to process. Sure, she’d seen him half-naked in the fighting ring in New Vegas, but now he was just a couple feet away from her, cramped in the back of a supply wagon. Shirtless. Wet. Gorgeous. 

Charlie mentally kicked herself. Not gorgeous, she insisted. Evil. Depraved. Insane. But her hormones were ignoring her internal monologue, clambering with interest in this exquisite male specimen. 

“Changing, too, if that’s alright with you.” Monroe said sarcastically, snapping her out of her reverie He slid his pants down his hips, careless of whether Charlie was watching or not. She slammed her eyes shut before she could see anything else. Charlie waited for what felt like a really long time. Finally, she spoke. “You done?” 

Monroe’s voice held a hint of laugher as he said, “Yeah, been done for awhile.” Charlie glared at him again when she opened her eyes, covering her reaction to what he was wearing. Or, not wearing. Monroe was sitting next to her in a well-worn gray t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Charlie admonished herself not to make a big deal out of it – after all, she was in her underwear, too. She completely understood. That didn’t make it any less awkward to be crammed into an enclosed space, practically naked with her sworn enemy. 

By now, Charlie had begun to notice that it was getting very cold. Getting out of their wet clothes had helped, but the desert temperatures were plummeting between the rain and it being nighttime. The metal walls of the vehicle provided almost no insulation. Charlie tucked her feet underneath her and looked around for something dry that they could use as a blanket. 

She spotted a couple of empty cloth sacks that had held food. They were only about two by three feet each, but they would be better than nothing. “Hand me those,” she said to Monroe, since he was closer, and he obliged. Charlie stuck her feet in one and pulled it as far up her legs as it would go. She held the other one out to Monroe for him to use. 

“We going to have a sack race?” he asked derisively. Charlie opened her mouth to snap back, but he cut her off, “You go ahead, I’m fine.” Not waiting for him to change his mind, Charlie wrapped the other sack around her torso. After a few minutes, she realized the bags were doing almost nothing to trap heat against her body, and she was losing the battle with the cold. She started to shiver, but she bit her lips and tried to hold still to hide it from Monroe. 

She did not succeed. “Damnit, you’re freezing,” he muttered, doing what she had done earlier and looking all over inside the compartment for something that would be dry and warm. Coming up with nothing, he got the food sacks from her and cut them along three seams, so she at least had a couple of decent sized blankets. Charlie covered her legs with one and the rest of her body with the other. It was better, but only slightly. Her teeth were still chattering in her mouth. 

“How are you—aren’t you—“ She couldn’t even get a full sentence out, but Monroe knew what she meant. He answered, “I’ll be fine. Just don’t die. I still need you.” Charlie rolled her eyes at this, but she was honestly a little worried. She felt herself getting fatigued, and she knew it wasn’t that late in the evening. Her body was shutting down. 

They sat in tense silence for a while, listening to the rain pounding down around them. Charlie felt herself zoning out, felt the cold penetrating deeper into her core. It hurt to move, so eventually she stopped and just sat completely still. 

Finally, Monroe exploded. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Come here.” He held out one of his arms and gestured that she should come to him. 

“Hell no,” Charlie managed to grit out. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine, I’m watching you get hypothermia literally before my eyes, and that’s not happening. So get over here.” 

“No.” 

Monroe took a deep breath in, obviously trying to calm himself, and then said in a low, serious tone. “So help me Charlie, if I have to lay on top of you and pin you down, I will do it rather than let you freeze. It’s your choice.” 

Charlie could see he was serious. Ignoring her obnoxious libido, which was crowing with glee at the thought of Monroe pinning her down anywhere, she reluctantly scooted closer to him. 

Immediately, Monroe pulled her into his side and got to work examining her, now that he had her implicit permission to touch her. He pinched all of her fingers and felt their temperature in his hands, felt her face, ears, and nose, and pressed his thumb to her lip. Charlie figured he was looking for signs of damage from the cold, but to her addled brain, it felt like the most orchestrated seduction anyone had ever executed. His hands felt incredibly hot on her clammy skin, and she unconsciously pressed in to his every touch, nearly whimpering aloud with dismay when he would pull his hands or his fingers away. 

“Shit. This isn’t good. I let you go too long. Too worried about… damnit.” Monroe was ostensibly talking to her, but he didn’t seem to be expecting any kind of response. He grabbed his pack and flung it down on the floor, clearing some more space, and he laid down, stretching his body out, and pulling her toward him. 

Charlie practically fell down on top of Monroe, she was so tired and weak. Part of her was scared, but another part, a bigger part, somehow trusted that Monroe would make sure she was alright. That she had nothing to fear as long as he was taking care of her. 

Monroe arranged the sack-blankets on top of them both, and he wrapped himself around Charlie. He pulled her legs in between his, gathered her into his chest and held her in place, and even placed one cheek against hers. Charlie thought that the sound of Monroe’s heartbeat was one of the most reassuring sounds she’d ever heard, his breath in her ear a close second. 

They lay like that for how long, Charlie didn’t know. Monroe would move periodically, getting more comfortable or concentrating on a part of her that was colder than the others, resting his hand on her neck, her shoulder, her back, rubbing to create friction. Charlie could sense that the air under the blankets was getting warmer, but she still felt chilled to the bone. 

Gradually, she warmed up, too, and as she did, she finally drifted off to sleep, still firmly grasped in Monroe’s embrace. 

* * *

Charlie awoke to the feeling of male arms around her. Though it usually irritated her when he one-night stands were cuddlers, a feeling of contentment surged through her, and she nestled back into his body. Her thoughts were hazy, and she tried to remember who it was that she’d… 

Her eyes sprang open in a panic, and she froze. Monroe. It was Monroe whose arms were wound around her, whose beard she could now feel on the back of her neck, whose legs were entwined in hers. Whose morning wood was very obvious and very much settled right between her thighs. Shit. 

Charlie contemplated leaping up and throwing herself out of the wagon. That was what she should do. It was morning now, and she could clearly see the light coming in the windows. But she couldn’t seem to make her body move. After all, it was probably cool if not cold out there. And she was so warm and groggy that she felt almost boneless. If she could just pretend for a while that it wasn’t Monroe behind her, that it was anyone else, she could get a little more sleep or at least not have to move. 

Charlie relaxed back into Monroe’s arms, still not fully understanding how she felt. Why did she not want to pull away from him? Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d saved her last night. Again. Sure, not in as dramatic a fashion as cutting apart half a dozen would-be rapists. But he’d saved her all the same, in spite of her stubborn pride almost refusing to let him. 

And she couldn’t deny she was attracted to him. She always had been, and it felt stupid to continue pretending otherwise to herself. The man looked like sin personified, and his hard body being molded to hers did nothing to dispel her attraction and interest. Especially given the utterly impressive manhood currently pressing into her most intimate places. Charlie shifted her hips, feeling him against her. She realized that for all their half-naked cuddling, she hadn’t felt him get hard the night before. Well, yeah, she scolded herself. You probably felt like a corpse, being half-dead from hypothermia and all. Experimentally, she rolled her hips against his again, and was finally awarded by an exasperated puff of air. 

“Jesus, Charlotte,” Monroe said in a tight voice. “I’m trying to pretend I haven’t noticed you’re awake, but you keep doing that and I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.” 

Charlie’s face burned hot with embarrassment. She’d been rubbing on Monroe like a cat in heat. What the hell was wrong with her? She started to roll away from him, and she felt his hand on her stomach apply pressure, bringing her back toward him. 

“I didn’t say I minded,” he said against her neck, running his hand along her taut stomach and up toward her breasts. 

Charlie sighed in pleasure, then quickly felt the need to cover it up, so she snarked, “Yeah, you don’t seem like the type to turn down a warm body.” 

Monroe’s hands stilled, then he laughed. “There’s no need to be defensive. We’re the only ones here.” His voice was as smooth as butter, and his hands began to move again. Dropping into a whisper, he added, “You can do whatever you want.” 

“And what is it that I want to do?” Charlie said, unable to stop her breath from hitching as Monroe’s hand traveled down over her hip to stroke her thigh. 

“Well,” Monroe said softly. “Judging by how hot…” He dipped his hand ever so slightly between her legs, and Charlie arched her back into him. “… And wet I can feel you are underneath those little shorts, I’d say you want… me.” 

Charlie rolled over quickly to glare at Monroe face to face. “Then you really are delus-“ 

Monroe cut her off, claiming her mouth in a brutal kiss. Charlie flailed, panicked, for a second or two, then fisted her hands in Monroe’s shirt, pulling her body flush to his. The kiss was rough, desperate, both of them breathing hard, grasping at each other. Charlie shoved her hands up Monroe’s shirt, then raked her nails down his chest, which earned her an approving groan from him. Taking the hint, Charlie circled her arms around his back and dug her nails in, pulling him close as she kissed him and ground her hips against his hard-on. 

“You like pain?” she said breathily once they broke apart. “Surprise, surprise.” Lowering her head, she bit lightly at Monroe’s neck, then harder until he responded with a needy moan. 

Bowing his head in pleasure, Monroe grasped Charlie’s ass, pulling the thin fabric of her shorts out of the way until his fingers brushed against her soaked pussy. “I need to be inside you,” he said, stroking her heated flesh. “Now.” 

At that, Charlie drew her hands down to the waistband of her underwear, so both her and Monroe were frantically working them down her hips, over her knees, until she could kick them away. Eagerly, Monroe returned his hand to her now-bare sex, firmly pressing over her sensitized clit, spreading her juices. Charlie grasped Monroe’s cock through his boxers, her heart pounding when she realized she couldn’t quite close her fist around him. Impatiently, she pulled his boxers out of the way and stroked him, pausing to run her hand down over his testicles then back up his full length. Monroe was putty in her hands, pressing into her, shaking and cursing. Finally, she relented, rolling onto her back and pulling him on top of her, wrapping her legs around his hips in a nonverbal command. 

Monroe hurriedly got completely naked, kicking his boxers aside, then hovered over Charlie, looking down at her: her tank top rucked up over her breasts, her legs spread open for him, her face flushed with lust. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed it over her slick pussy, but suddenly his eyes cleared and he hesitated. Charlie looked at him curiously. 

“Been awhile since I fucked someone who wasn’t being paid,” he explained. “So I’ll ask: are you sure? You want this?” 

Charlie for some reason found this act of consideration both very endearing and very funny. She managed not to laugh, but she smirked and said, “My god, Monroe, do you need a written invitation? Yes, I want this.” 

Monroe began to press into her, and Charlie gasped as she felt his cockhead begin to stretch her entrance. Then he stopped again, and she groaned, shifting her hips to try to take him in further. “Can you not call me that?” he asked. 

“What, Monroe? Okay, General, then. Mr. President.” Charlie said impatiently, running her hands up his chest. 

“Call me Bass,” Monroe said. Charlie grasped his shoulders and dug in with her nails, trying to pull him closer. 

“Bass, then,” Charlie said, her voice tight with need. “Bass, please,” she begged. “Fuck me.” 

With a groan, Monroe thrust his full length into her, filling her deeply. Charlie cried out in pleasure, thrusting back against him, wanting him as deep inside her as he could get. Monroe set a quick pace, hammering her into the floor of the supply wagon. Charlie felt his cock hitting her inside in places that she’d never felt before, places that felt absolutely amazing. She whimpered with need and angled her hips to get more direct friction. As they found the right position together, Charlie realized that between the foreplay and Monroe’s prodigious skill, she was incredibly close to coming. 

“Bass,” she moaned into his ear, liking the effect it had on him. Every time she said his nickname, he seemed to melt into her a bit, to fuck her more desperately, to give her more of himself. “Bass, it feels so good. God, I’m going to come.” He said nothing, just kept going, and finally Charlie felt herself flying toward the edge. As her body quaked beneath him, she cried out. “I’m coming… oh God, Bass…” 

As she came down from her high, Monroe rolled over and pulled her on top of him. “Ride me,” he commanded. While Charlie would have thought she’d be too spent from the intense climax she’d just had, being on top of Bass was overwhelming her with even more pleasurable sensations. Eagerly, she began to bounce on his cock, riding him harder as she found her balance and rhythm. Charlie watched Monroe’s face below her contort with pleasure, and she pulled almost all the way off him, then sank back down his full length. 

“Charlie… Charlotte,” he moaned, pulling her flush against him, tipping her forward to her breasts were mashed into his chest. Bracing his feet on the floor, he thrust up into her hard, holding her nearly immobile and spread wide for him as he worked his cock inside her. Charlie could tell he was getting close, and he shouted incoherently as he worked himself up and over the edge. Finally, with one last thrust, Monroe buried himself deep and came hard, exploding inside her without hesitation. Charlie closed her eyes and gripped his shoulders – it felt so damn amazing, she couldn’t think of anything in that moment but holding onto him as tight as possible. 

Monroe breathed heavily as he relaxed beneath her, and Charlie collapsed on top of him. They both lay silently for a few minutes, shifting slightly to more comfortable positions. Monroe stroked one hand lazily over her back, which felt good. But when he brought his other hand up to run through her hair and brush his thumb on her cheek, Charlie decided that was too much. She had to put him back in his place. 

“I still hate you, you know,” she said, the words coming out much less barbed than she’d intended, and more like a dreamy murmur. 

Monroe chuckled and kissed her hair. “You can hate me like that all you want, Charlotte. Whatever you need.” 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Later that day, Charlie and Bass were back on the road. Charlie surprised herself by feeling fairly normal around Bass, despite the fact that she’d had sex with him just hours before. He hadn’t made her feel gross or awkward about it, like she’d half-expected him to. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned it at all, and for that, she was grateful. And if he looked at her with even more heat and yearning than usual, well, that was easy enough to ignore. 

Truthfully, Charlie wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen next between her and Bass. Her feelings for him had been confused enough before they’d slept together. Now she knew how it felt to have him on top of her, inside her. She shivered just thinking about it. She knew herself well enough to know that she was going to want more of him. She just wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. 

The sun had come out and was beating down on them. The glare off the road was starting to play tricks on Charlie’s vision. Later, she blamed that for her slow response. 

Charlie and Bass had stopped to rest for a few minutes, grab water, and stretch. As Charlie raised her canteen to her lips, she caught sight of a flash of dark out of the corner of her eye. Before she could react, a tall, fat man had her in his grip, one hand grasping her upper arm hard enough to bruise. His other hand held a knife at her throat. 

He swung her around, and Charlie saw Bass facing off with another man, this one shorter and wiry. He was holding Bass at gunpoint. Bass stared him down warily, his palms up at waist level. “What’s this about, gentlemen?” he asked smoothly. Inwardly, Charlie smirked. Whatever it was, these assholes were about to find out that two against two was not a fair fight. 

“Our boss sent us to get you,” the short guy said in a whine. “Seems y’all killed his brother back in Pottsboro.”

“Oh yeah?” Bass said sarcastically. “Which one of those piece of shit rapist fucks has a brother?” 

“You can ask him yourself soon enough. Boss wants to have a little chat with you two,” the man answered. Flicking his eyes away from Bass for a split second to look at Charlie, he licked his lips and said, “‘Specially her.”

Charlie gasped, playing the scared, helpless woman. She began to wiggle slightly in the arms of the man who held her, conscious of the fact that her lithe body was pressed against his, shoulder to toe. “Please,” she begged in her most seductive voice. “Please don’t hurt us. Just… let him go, and I’ll go back with you.” 

“No can do, bitch,” the skinny man retorted, still staring down Bass, whose eyes had turned stormy with rage. “Boss wants to teach this one a lesson about intruding on the hospitality of strangers.” 

“Well,” Charlie said, her voice seeming to vibrate with desperation. “What if I can make it worth your while? The boss would never have to know…” She was finally able to shift enough to get the man who was holding her to move his free hand off of her arm and onto her breast. 

“Mmm,” she encouraged him, rolling her hips dramatically, pressing her ass into him as he stroked the firm mound of her breast. Sure enough, she felt him growing hard behind her. Charlie had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. 

The big man reached up and pulled down one side of her tank top for better access, exposing her pale breast. The man with the gun turned his head away from Bass to watch the action between Charlie and his partner. As the man squeezed her breast more eagerly, his breath quickening behind her, he let knife at her throat slacken.

The second he did, Charlie sprang into action, ducking out of the way and kicking behind her as hard as she could into the guy’s knee. He howled in pain and staggered back a few feet. Charlie didn’t hesitate. She leaped up, barreled into him, and grabbed his knife. With all her strength, she swung the knife up and into his throat. A gurgling sound marked the end of the big man’s life, and he toppled over in a pool of red. 

Whirling, pulling her top back up, Charlie prepared to run over to Bass, but she saw that he was fighting the other man and winning handily. The gun was on the ground several feet away from them, and Charlie quickly retrieved it, pointing it at the two fighting men. They were moving too fast for her to get a shot off. 

Bass was shoving, kicking, and punching the other man, but never quite taking him down. The man flailed and fought uselessly, clearly outmatched by Bass. But Bass was prolonging the fight, Charlie could tell instantly, toying with the man now that he was unarmed. Letting him think he had the upper hand, then viciously attacking. The man’s face was a mottled mess of blood, and he was barely able to stay on his feet. 

“Stop! I’ve got the shot! Bass!” Charlie yelled. 

“Charlie,” Bass roared, a warning. He continued to beat the shit out of the man for what felt to Charlie like minutes but was probably only several more seconds. Finally, the man went down, and Bass pounced. Kneeling on his chest, Bass wrapped strong hands around his throat and choked the life out of him, shaking with rage. When it was clear the man was dead, Bass released his neck, throwing him down onto the ground and kicking him slightly to the side like a piece of garbage. 

Breathing hard, Bass turned toward Charlie. She put the gun in her waistband, staring back at him, lips parted slightly. The silence hung heavy in the air between them now that the fight was over. Bass growled and closed the distance between them. He pulled Charlie into his arms and kissed her desperately. 

Charlie wrapped her arms around Bass, holding him as tightly as she could, the feel of his warm body against hers reassuring her that they were okay. Her adrenaline was pumping so hard she could feel it like a drug in her veins, focusing every detail of the world more sharply around her. She felt the fine scratch of Bass’ beard on her lips, smelled the tang of sweat and blood on his skin, tasted victory in his mouth. 

Bass ran his hands over her body, grasping her tightly, parting from her slightly to lick and bite against her lips, then her neck. He moaned into her flesh, a word that might have been “mine.” Charlie reached around him and grabbed his ass, pulling him against her. She wanted Bass badly in that moment, and she grinded against him, feeling his own need hard against her hip. Tilting her head up, she kissed him again, her tongue moving hotly against his. 

Suddenly stepping back from her, Bass frowned. “We gotta get out of here,” he said, his voice grating with lust. Turning, he stalked over to the big man and dragged him off the road, out of sight. Charlie did the same for the smaller man. Bass strode back toward the wagon and hopped up. Charlie was quick behind him, and as soon as she was seated, Bass whipped the horses into motion. 

Charlie was still breathing hard. She tried to relax into the seat as they bounced down the road at an unnaturally quick pace, but her body was wound too tight. The slick moisture between her legs aroused the swollen tissues there with every jolt of the wagon. Biting her lip, she glanced over at Bass. He stared stubbornly ahead, but Charlie could see tension in the lines of his body, in his white-knuckled grip on the reins. 

Blowing a breath out of her nose, Charlie told herself to calm down. But really what she wanted to do was lick up the taut line of Bass’ neck, run her hands through his hair, straddle his lap, and ride him til she came. She closed her eyes against the thought, but that only made the images more vivid in her imagination. So she opened them again, watching Bass as he drove. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said hoarsely. “You have to stop looking at me like that.” 

Charlie turned obediently away. She sat beside Bass, chewing at her lip, holding her thighs tightly together in a bid to quell her arousal. After a few minutes, she lifted her heavy hair off her neck, stretching her arms above her head to hold it in place, arching her back into the pleasant release of tension. 

Bass’ head snapped around to watch her, his eyes incredulous. “Fuck it,” he said, directing the horses to the side of the road. Charlie let her arms drop and turned to him. “This is far enough,” he declared, and he was on Charlie in an instant. 

They kissed each other fiercely, the heat of the confrontation, of nearly losing each other, still sharp in their minds. Charlie quickly climbed off of the wooden wagon seat and sat astride Bass’ lap. She ran her hands over his shoulders, grasping the muscles hard and grinding down, feeling his hardness growing beneath her. She kissed him with tongue and fury, passionately gasping against his lips when she needed air. Bass manhandled Charlie, his grip on her ass nearly painful as he pulled her down against him. 

“Goddamnit,” he groaned, pressing his hips up into her. “Need you.” He plunged one hand into the back of her jeans, but the tight denim prevented him from doing more than brushing the tips of his fingers against her wetness. He growled in frustration. Charlie understood exactly how he felt. Her need for him tightened in her core.

Charlie scrambled off Bass’ lap and over to the side, unbuckling her belt and pants with swift hands, peeling them and her underwear down her legs, shucking off her boots and leaving it all in the foot well. She had planned to crawl back onto Bass and ride him, but it seemed he had other ideas. 

Leaning over into her, Bass lowered Charlie hastily so that her back was against the wooden seat of the wagon. “Need to fuck you,” he grunted, then covered her mouth with his in a brutal kiss. He’d opened his pants, and his cock jutted out, proud and heavy. Charlie’s body tensed in anticipation and with the memory of how he’d felt inside her. 

Wasting no time, Bass moved himself between Charlie’s legs, spreading her thighs wide. Taking himself in one hand, he slicked his cock in her wetness, then pushed inside her roughly. Charlie gasped with pleasure, rocking her hips into him, meeting his every thrust with eager movements of her own. She needed him, hard and fast, just like he wanted to take her. Dimly, she realized that the wood of the seat didn’t make the most comfortable cushion for her head, but then the pleasure rocketing through her body overwhelmed any discomfort. 

Charlie felt Bass hitting her deep as he fucked her on top of the wagon, their grunts and moans the only sounds in the silent desert. Their bodies were mashed together so closely that Bass was hitting her clit as he worked his cock inside her, and she felt her orgasm building quickly. Finally, it broke over her, and she came for Bass with a loud cry. Relief washed through her, the tension that had been building dissipated at last. 

Bass had seemingly been close himself, because once Charlie came, he pulled out of her, his cock red and slick with her juices. He fisted himself hard, coming with just a few strokes, roaring as he spurted white, hot streams of come onto Charlie’s pubic hair. 

“Fuck,” he said, sitting back heavily. Running a hand over his face and looking at the sky, he repeated, “Fuck.” 

“Mmmhmmm,” Charlie said, pulling her clothes on, still a bit too dazed to speak. Once she was dressed, she leaned against Bass’ shoulder. He put his arm around her, and she tensed, at first, at the intimacy of the gesture. Then she relaxed against him, figuring it didn’t make much difference at this point. With his free hand, Bass picked up the reins and got the horses moving again. 

That night when they stopped, Bass stayed up and urged Charlie to go to sleep. He wanted to wait up and make sure that their friends in Pottsboro didn’t send any more hunting parties. Charlie protested that she wanted to take a watch shift, but he insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway, so one of them might as well. She fell asleep next to the roaring campfire, assured that she would be safe with Bass keeping watch. 

The next night, when they made camp, Charlie cajoled, threatened, and bickered with Bass until he finally relented and promised to let her take the second night watch so he could get some sleep. So when she awoke to the sun rising in the cool dawn sky, she was both groggy and annoyed. 

“You were supposed to wake me up,” Charlie said, stepping over to where Bass was sitting, hunched against a large log. 

“Knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” he said, his voice gravelly with fatigue. “One more day’s travel away from those fuckers, and I’ll rest easier.” 

Charlie assessed Bass’ slumped, weak form. Exhaustion was fairly radiating off him. If the Pottsboro bastards did come back, he would be useless to her until he got some rest. But he’d never lie down voluntarily. 

A plan occurred to her, though she wasn’t sure she liked it. Charlie stepped over to where Bass was sitting and scooted onto the log. She shoved him until he leaned forward, looking confused. Charlie arranged herself sitting behind him, one leg on either side of his body. 

Charlie placed her hands on Bass’ shoulders, holding him in place, and she began to rub them firmly. As soon as she did, he let out a deep, involuntary groan. Even to her inexperienced hands, the tension in his muscles was obvious. She rubbed with determination, feeling Bass relax against her despite himself. 

“Will you please just close your eyes for thirty seconds?” she snapped, working as much irritation into her voice as she could manage. “They’re bloodshot and disgusting. It hurts to look at you.” 

Bass snorted. “Fine,” he said just as impatiently. “Thirty seconds.” He slammed his eyes shut, and Charlie could see the tension in his face, wrinkles tight around his eyes and on his forehead. Within moments, the wrinkles smoothed out, and the corners of his mouth drooped. Charlie felt Bass’ breath deepening as he sat against her, and she continued rubbing his shoulders. 

Finally, after a few minutes, she was pretty sure Bass was asleep. His lips were slightly parted, and his breath came in a steady rhythm. His weight was heavy against her as he leaned into her and the log. Charlie kept rubbing his shoulders long enough to make sure he really was asleep, then slowly lightened her touch until she stopped. 

Now what? Her arms and lap were full of sleeping Bass Monroe. Charlie knew that if she moved, he would wake up, not rested at all. And he’d be spitting mad that she’d tricked him into falling asleep. With a sigh, she rested her arms across his chest, shifting to get a little bit more comfortable. 

Charlie felt a small glow of satisfaction that Bass had fallen asleep with her so easily. It showed a certain level of trust, and while the two of them had the necessary trust that came from relying on someone to help you not get killed, this felt like something more. 

Sitting with Bass cradled in her arms, Charlie had time to look at him uninterrupted. She did it plenty, anyway, when they were both awake, but now she really indulged herself. His handsome face looked peaceful and unburdened in sleep. His demons, for the time being, were hidden. She admired the fullness of his lips, remembering them on hers, and heat started to spread through her body. 

Her gaze traveled down, over his strong chest and stomach. She imagined the tight abs she knew were beneath his dirt-stained shirt, and then her gaze drifted over to where his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. He hadn’t bothered wrapping the band of cloth he often wore over the scar where his tattoo used to be. Charlie’s stomach clenched as she looked at it. It was so much uglier and nastier than her own scar. In a strange way, General Monroe had marked them both.

Charlie eyes skimmed over his crotch, her lips quirking briefly in a smile before she could forbid herself from following that train of thought. She followed the long lines of his legs, clad in worn denim, and his utilitarian boots, always ready to stomp, kick, and punish as necessary. 

Her inventory of the man lying against her thus finished, Charlie tightened her arms around him. She could smell the earthy, masculine scent of his hair just inches from her nose, and her body reacted with arousal and something deeper. Something that felt strangely possessive. She’d told Bass earlier that day that she still hated him, but what she was feeling at that moment didn’t seem like hate. Not at all. 

* * *


End file.
